


Burial at Sea

by frith_in_thorns



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode: s01e10-e11 The Storm/The Eye, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, team fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:23:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3383153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frith_in_thorns/pseuds/frith_in_thorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a lot of clean-up to be done once the storm's passed, both physical and emotional.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burial at Sea

The golden afternoon wore onwards. Atlantis was full of people again.

They hadn't sunk back into the ocean, but there was considerable storm damage to the parts of the city which had borne the brunt of the wind and waves. Elizabeth had put the science team to work identifying and prioritising them almost as soon as they were back through the gate, and people were organising themselves into work crews.

Teyla joined a party with no other Athosians in. Guilt twinged at her for that, but she didn't want to talk about Sora, or have her state of mind speculated on. (It would be in a well-meaning way, of course. But.)

The sun was shining vigorously through the coloured glass of the windows, and it was already hard to believe how terrifying the skies had been only hours before. There were comments to that effect from other members of her work crew, and Teyla had to quash a defensive desire to make them understand just how bad it had been. They didn't actually disbelieve, she reminded herself. They just couldn't imagine what it had been like.

"How much further?" someone asked.

"A few minutes," Markham said. He had a map of the city on one of the hand-held computing devices and kept checking it compulsively.

"If we don't take another wrong turn," one of the scientists stage-whispered. Her colleague laughed and shushed her.

"Ayesha, are you volunteering to navigate us through this maze?" Markham asked.

"Sure," Ayesha said, endearingly self-confident.

Markham looked temporarily wrong-footed. "Well, tough. I'm in charge." 

Teyla was one of the people who chuckled. The storm had been a nightmare experience, but now she could relax.

Then someone shrieked. Markham snapped around, as did Teyla and the other two military people, their sidearms jumping into their hands. "Stay back!" Markham ordered everyone else.

One of Carson's people had gone to sneak a look at a balcony they were passing. When they reached her she was pressed against a wall, and spun around guiltily as Markham and Teyla approached. "What is it?" Teyla demanded.

She pointed, but it was obvious. Two dead Genii sprawled across the floor, surrounded by blood which had dried to black on the pale floor tiles.

Teyla grimaced. "I did not realise we would be doing _this_ sort of cleanup too."

"Is it our job?" Markham asked, uncertainly.

"Who else's?" Teyla countered. 

"I can't go near them," Carson's person said. "I'll be sick." Probably a researcher, not an actual medic.

"Go back to the others," Teyla said, and was obeyed with alacrity. She touched her earpiece. "Dr Weir, are you there?"

It took a moment for her to be answered. "Just about."

"You sound exhausted," Teyla said. It was audible even over the radio.

Elizabeth sighed. "We all are. Shouldn't you be on downtime yourself?"

"I sat out most of the action in a Jumper," Teyla reminded her. "However, I called because we have a minor situation."

She could hear the other woman come to alertness. "What's happened?"

"We have run across the bodies of two Genii," Teyla said. "What do you wish us to do with them?"

John's voice cut into the channel. "Dump them in the ocean." His tone was hard and flat.

Teyla and Markham exchanged looks. He didn't seem to want to enter the discussion himself. "Elizabeth?" Teyla asked.

Elizabeth sighed again. "I don't much like it, but I'm inclined to agree with the Major," she said. "We don't have facilities for disposing of them on Atlantis that we've come across, and transporting their bodies to the mainland for burial is just not feasible right now."

"More than those bastards would deserve," John muttered darkly. Markham pursed his lips and nodded.

"John, _stop it_ ," Elizabeth ordered. "Teyla, we should probably defer to you. What do you know about their customs? We also considered sending their bodies back to their homeworld through the Gate, but —"

"— But Kolya would probably interpret that as an act of war," John interrupted.

"Precisely," Elizabeth conceded. "Teyla?"

Teyla closed her eyes briefly. Once she might have felt that she could speak with some small authority on Genii customs, but everything she thought she had known about them had since turned out to be a lie. And even then she hadn't known how they treated their dead. "The Wraith do not venture under the oceans," she said, finally. "It seems as good a place as any for these men to find peace." 

"Do it, then," Elizabeth said, and Teyla pictured her adding the little nod she habitually did when she had considered all sides and come to a decision. "And John, you know you're off-duty. Turn the radio off and get some sleep."

"Yes, Ma'am," John said, although Teyla wasn't sure that he would. It must be comforting for him, to be able to listen in on the open channels and reassure himself that everyone was safe. That his actions had been borne out and justified.

"We'd better take care of this," Markham said, indicating the dead men. 

"I agree," Teyla said. She was very glad the civilians were elsewhere as she briskly went through their clothing, retrieving all items of tech she found. Rodney would probably want to see them, even if he would then dismiss them as hopelessly primitive. Then she took the ankles of the nearest man and Markham had a few moments' difficulty trying to lift under the shoulders, before abandoning that in favour of the easier grip around the forearms. 

They didn't have far to carry him. And it was easy between them to hoist the corpse up over the railings at the city's edge and let it fall. At the last moment Teyla realised they hadn't thought to weight him — the image of dead Genii floating around the edge of Atlantis was a grisly one. She was deeply thankful when the waves swallowed the body and it slowly sank from sight. She and Markham went back for the second one, and he followed his comrade. 

_Was this worth it to you?_ Teyla thought, watching him disappear.

"How many more of these guys are there?" Markham asked her.

Teyla shrugged, a little frustrated by the reminder that she had been of no use while the Genii had swept through the city. "I don't know. Maybe a dozen."

"They'll need to be disposed of. Before… " He wrinkled his nose, indicating a bad smell. 

Teyla shuddered in agreement. "Is anyone tasked with it?"

"I don't think so," Markham said. "Not specifically. The other teams had the same briefing we did. There are too many repairs to do to spare a team just to roam the halls looking for bodies."

"Fine," Teyla said. "I will locate them. Those in the control room can then divert a few nearby individuals from their tasks to…" She nearly said, _to dispose of them,_ as Markham had, but stopped herself. They were, after all, talking about people. Enemies, but people nonetheless. They weren't Wraith.

"What, by yourself?" Markham asked, dubiously.

"You'll be needed with the repair team. Besides, I would welcome the solitude," she added, and then worried that she had been rude. It wasn't even true, not precisely. Once she had considered the task it began to feel like a way by which she could make up for her absence during the incursion, when she should have been fighting alongside John, or defending Rodney and Elizabeth. 

Markham didn't look happy, but she wasn't in his chain of command, and he already had his own orders. "Keep in radio contact," he said.

"Of course."

She had learned skill at navigation, and could remember clearly the route John had drawn over a map of the city. However, it soon became clear that it had been more of an estimate on his part than a certainty. She had to double back often, or scout side hallways to be sure she was still heading in the right direction.

She found one body, then three some time after that, then two more. Each time she radioed a tired-sounding Peter in the control room, so that he could mark her position on a map. It was helpful, she reminded herself. It was far more efficient to have just one person scouting like this than to send several, who would also have to pause and locate the nearest balcony each time. This way a couple of people could peel off from the nearest work crew and return when they were done. But she also knew that this argument was a post facto justification for the task she had already decided she wanted.

And it wasn't working to alleviate her guilt. Each Genii body just reminded her of the odds she hadn't been able to help even.

"Peter," she called, tapping her radio. The tired croak in her voice surprised her.

"How many?" Peter asked. His response was almost immediate, even though he was coordinating almost everyone spread out through the city.

"Two." One of them had dragged himself a few metres before he died. He had left a dark trail along the polished floor. "I didn't think before — we'll have to organise cleaning up the blood." From the other places, too. Her plan was looking less and less efficient now.

"The military men I'm sending out to your sites know what they're doing," Peter assured her. "They'll take care of it."

Teyla rubbed her eyes. They were beginning to ache. "Thanks."

"You should take a break soon," Peter said. "Dr Weir told me to say that when you next checked in, and I agree with her."

"Soon," Teyla agreed. "I'm working my way back towards you, in any case."

"Right," Peter said, sounding unconvinced. "By the way, there's someone about a hundred metres from your position. Any chance you can tell them to check in? We're trying to keep track of everyone in the outer city at the moment."

"Of course," Teyla said. "Can you direct me?" 

Peter gave her all the directions at once, rather than making her query every turn, and then fell silent. It was one of the things she appreciated about working with him. 

She didn't call out as she approached the position of the unknown life sign, even though it was probably a scientist and she had learned well that many scientists didn't appreciate "being sneaked up on," as Kavanagh had put it after she had nearly given him a heart attack. (The alternative to her making her presence known early, that of them paying more attention to their surroundings, she knew was unlikely to happen.) Despite Rodney's repeated assertions that everyone caught in the hallways would be killed by the redirected lightning (and hadn't she been desperately aware of that, trying to get Carson to move faster), her immediate thought was _Genii_. One left behind in the city, like Sora, who had somehow survived. 

In actual fact, it was Rodney. Teyla let out a tense breath and stepped fully around the corner. He had a control panel open in the wall and was sitting next to it, leaning his forehead against the top edge of it, his face practically in the crystals.

He was very still, and Teyla waited several paces back, not wanting to disturb some delicate operation. It was maybe a minute before she realised that he wasn't deep in thought at all. He was asleep.

She crouched down, putting her face on the same level as his. "Dr McKay?" she said.

His eyelids didn't flicker. "Go-away-I'm-busy," he mumbled, barely opening his mouth. It was a fairly impressive automatic response — Teyla doubted he was any more awake than he had been a second ago.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "Rodney."

This time he jerked in response, and a moment later gave a confused exclamation as he opened his eyes to the close-up view of a control panel. "What?" he said, sounding tired and bewildered, and then, more sharply, "You're interrupting my work. I'm concentrating!"

"Rodney, it is only me," Teyla said, calmly.

He finally looked round, pale and blinking blearily. "Oh. Hello, Teyla. I wasn't asleep."

She didn't argue. "What are you working on?" she asked.

Rodney rubbed his eyes, still disorientated. "Huh? Oh. The lightning overloaded some circuits. This is a sort of breaker box — no wait, that's a completely meaningless metaphor to you, isn't it… anyway, I'm fixing it." He looked back, suddenly frowning. "No, wait. Fixed it. I finished."

"That is good to hear," Teyla said. He was right in that she hadn't understood his explanation, but saying so would only trigger a longer one. "Do you think it might be a good idea to go and get some rest now?"

Rodney half-shrugged, unenthusiastically. "What about you? You seem to still be on duty."

Her knees were beginning to ache from crouching, so she moved to sit against the wall instead, next to Rodney. "I have been locating…" she began, and then faltered to an awkward stop. 

"What?" Rodney demanded. "Oh god, are there explosives lying around or something?"

"No!" she hastened to reassure him. Trying to keep her eyes from the clumsy bandage on his arm, she said, "I've been locating dead Genii, for cleanup teams to dispose of. That is all."

"Oh," Rodney said. He grimaced, and drew his knees up. "I guess I didn't think about what would happen to… them."

"There are more pleasant things to think about," Teyla agreed. But she was at a loss to find one for a new conversational topic. "How are you doing?"

"Me?" Rodney's voice was surprised, and he looked at her sideways as if assessing whether or not she was serious. "Well. I had my arm _sliced open_ and then I was kept in the freezing rain for literally hours and I still can't get warm, but other than that I'm great. You?"

She had to smile at his tone — sarcastic, but also wry. She had found Rodney almost incomprehensible at first in his contradictions, but was coming to realise that he simply tended to process his emotions out loud, where most people would keep silent — particularly when their thoughts would cause them to be judged cowardly or petty. Rodney _did_ cause those judgements to fall on him, but barely seemed to care; and often the patter of his words had as little relation to his eventual actions as her own secret thoughts of fear did to hers.

Still, she was also concerned. "Has anyone looked at your arm yet?"

"No," he said, shortly. "I'll… I'll go to the infirmary in a bit. I've been busy."

"Things get harder to face the longer we hide from them," she offered.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Great advice. Thanks, Teyla."

She was stung. The words had perhaps been too trite, but she had been trying to impart meaning behind them. Support; reassurance.

"Sorry," Rodney said, a moment later. He hung his head. "I just… don't you know what it's like to not want to think about something?" He had begun cradling his wounded arm, perhaps unconsciously.

"Only too well," she assured him. "However, there are consequences to putting them off."

"Oh, I know," Rodney agreed gloomily. "I'll probably get an infection and my whole arm will have to be amputated. Or something."

"I was thinking of something a _little_ less severe than that," she said, unable to keep from smiling. 

"Failure of imagination. I've always had a very good one myself."

"Yes, I am aware," she said, dryly, which prompted another wry half-smile from Rodney. 

He took a breath as if about to say something, but then closed his mouth instead and looked at her sidelong. She didn't press him, and soon he broke the silence again. "You heard what happened?"

"Without you being more specific, I expect so but cannot be certain."

He snorted. "Do you, like, grade yourself on diplomacy or something?"

"That sounds an interesting idea," Teyla said. "Perhaps we could have a competition."

"Sure, rub it in how you're the best at everything."

She looked at him in surprise. "What?"

Rodney shrugged, looking irritated now. "You think before you act, I know, and make all the sensible decisions. I _try_ , but I just don't seem to —"

She cut him off before he could go any further, her chest clenching painfully. "Please don't say that. Not when I risked all our lives."

Rodney's expression again switched. Now he looked baffled. "What are you talking about?"

She wrapped her hands over her knees. This was the heart of the guilt which had been eating her up. "Sora. I fought her hand-to-hand, when I had a gun and already knew I outmatched her."

"I still don't get —"

"I fought her because of my pride, Doctor," Teyla said. "I knew that time was desperately short, and still I did this. It offended me that she believed an untruth, and therefore I put my and Doctor Beckett's lives at risk."

Rodney jerked sharply; a spasm quickly suppressed. "I know what you're doing," he said. "Trying to make me feel better about how I nearly killed the three of you."

She kept her hands still. " _I_ am apologising. It is unrelated to your actions."

"Oh," Rodney said. He appeared to have to think about this a bit. "So you're saying… No, wait." He thought a bit more. "I'm sorry for giving up on you so quickly."

"Thank you," she said, gravely. "However, I believe you are owed considerable leeway due to previous events."

Rodney shifted awkwardly. "Yes, well. And for the record, I don't really think you need to apologise for anything." He tipped his head back against the wall. "God, I'm tired. And cold."

"You're still cold?" Teyla asked.

"Freezing," he said. "I haven't been able to get warm at all."

She touched the back of her hand against the side of his head, below his ear. His skin was icy. "Maybe we should go back to the main part of the city," she suggested.

"Mmm," Rodney agreed, making no move to get up.

Teyla wasn't inclined to, either. She was bruised and aching from her fight with Sora, and exhausted from being on duty through the storm and beyond. The hallway floor wasn't comfortable, but it had inertia on its side.

She was still trying to work up the willpower to move, and Rodney looked halfway to again falling asleep where he sat, when her radio buzzed. "Teyla, are you there?" Peter asked.

She startled. "Yes, I am here, with Dr McKay."

Peter made a noise somewhere between frustrated and long-suffering. "That would explain why I couldn't account for a life-sign there; Dr Weir thought he'd gone to get some sleep. Please remind him that everyone in the outer city is supposed to have their radio on, as per his own protocols."

Rodney muttered something sarcastic that sounded like, _sleep when we're dead_. Teyla looked at him sideways. "I'll certainly do that," she said to Peter. Rodney rolled his eyes.

"Thank you."

Teyla waited until the connection was no longer active. "Clearly you _could_ hear Dr Grodin," she said.

"My radio's muted for outgoing," Rodney said. "Obviously I wouldn't turn it off altogether, in case something important happened."

"Your own definition of 'something important', I take it," Teyla said, dryly. 

"Oh, please," Rodney said, gesturing with one hand in an exhausted echo of his usual fervour. "Atlantis could be falling into the ocean and it'd be all, _Dr McKay, I've melted my iPod by plugging it into a main conduit, can you fix it?_ "

Teyla decided that she was simply too tired to engage in this sort of argument. "Come on," she said. "It's time to move." She forced herself up, and stood looking pointedly down at Rodney. 

He groaned, but didn't object to her taking the lead. He followed her slowly to his feet, staggering slightly as he rose, and cradling his bandaged arm against his chest. "It hurts," he said defensively, seeing her looking.

"I imagine it must," she said, soothingly, and got a suspicious huff in return.

"The nearest transporter is this way," he said, gesturing vaguely with his other hand. "Uh, I think."

"Aren't you taking your equipment?" she asked, as he made to start walking.

He stopped short in surprise. "Oh. Yes, of course."

She helped him gather it up into the bulky case which he slung over one shoulder. "Do you want me to take that?" she asked.

"No, no," Rodney said, vaguely. He stood looking at nothing in particular until she nudged him into moving in the direction he had previously indicated.

They walked slowly, both unspeaking. Evening was drawing down, but enough light was left in the sky to glow through the few windows they passed. Teyla was tired enough that it all seemed faintly unreal.

She was, however, alert enough to catch Rodney's hand as he reached for the transporter's controls. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to get to my quarters?" Rodney shook Teyla's hand away. "I thought we were agreeing on the need for sleep."

Teyla tapped the place on the panel which would take them to the infirmary instead. "We were also agreeing on getting someone to look at your arm."

"I don't remember that part," Rodney muttered, but Teyla ignored him. He hunched sulkily into his jacket.

The infirmary was quiet, the lights dimmed low. Carson was the only patient and he was asleep in the bed furthest from the entrance, head tilted to one side. 

"Can I help you?" Dora Biro scurried out from the door to the labs. She didn't wait for an answer. "Dr McKay, whoever bandaged your arm did a _terrible_ job. I'll be having words with them. Who was it?"

"I did it myself," Rodney said, his tone aggravated.

"Ah well," she said, resignedly shaking her head, "We don't all have that aptitude to be doctors." Ignoring Rodney's indignant spluttering she steered him towards a bed. "Sit there, then, so I can have a look. What did you do to yourself?"

"It's a laceration," Rodney said, stiffly. 

"I'll get my sewing kit prepared first, then," she said, cheerfully. "Just wait there!"

"She's barbaric!" Rodney hissed to Teyla as she vanished.

She managed not to laugh. "The doctor knows what she is doing."

" _Hah_ ," Rodney muttered.

"I can hear you from the other room, you know," Dr Biro informed him as she reappeared. "Now. Let's get this atrocity off your arm."

Teyla hovered, not sure whether Rodney really wanted her to but unwilling to move. She wanted to see for herself exactly what Kolya had done.

It was not as bad as she had feared. The gash along Rodney's arm was deep, but clean and even. The injury had been done with a sharp blade, and the wielder had clearly known what he was doing and had been careful not to cause fatal or permanent damage. 

_Not as bad…_ Rodney's face had gone white as soon as it was uncovered, and she didn't think it was from pain. She clenched her hands into fists, welcoming the sensation of her nails digging into her palms. The knife-wielder had cut to cause pain; to make Rodney know that he was in danger of maiming and eventual should the torture continue. There were no words to express how much she despised Kolya for such an injury.

If Dora noticed anything amiss in their faces, she didn't show it. "That needs stitches, just as I expected," she said. "I'll give you a local anaesthetic first."

"Good," Rodney said, and then, "Ow!" as she injected him. "What's the point of an anaesthetic when _getting_ the anaesthetic hurts?"

"I'm sure many great minds have debated that philosophical question," Dora said, with a complete lack of interest. She reached for the disinfectant. "Dr McKay, please do sit still."

Rodney glanced towards Teyla, meeting her eyes but immediately looking away. Teya felt herself flush, realising that she had been staring. "I'll go see how Carson's doing," she suggested.

Rodney mumbled something, which Teyla took as confirmation that he would rather she go away but wasn't sure how to say it politely. Or semi-politely — this _was_ Rodney, after all.

She walked towards Carson quietly. It felt deeply odd to see him lying in his own infirmary, dressed in white scrubs. There was a chair by his bed, and though she tried to make no noise, his head turned towards her as she sat down.

"Carson Beckett, I'm in the infirmary, it's Thursday," he mumbled, eyes still closed.

"Dr Beckett?" Teyla said, hesitantly.

"Oh." He opened his eyes finally, squinting at her. "Teyla. Hello. Thought you were one of my staff checking on me."

"I am also checking on you," she said, with a smile. She took care to keep her voice steady and soft. "How are you feeling?"

Carson reached up to his head, but arrested his hand mid-motion and laid it down again. "Dreadful. I always thought I'd hate to have a concussion, and it turns out I was right."

"At least you were not injured worse," Teyla said. 

She had not meant her words to hurt, but a shadow passed over Carson's face. "That's very true. How many men did we lose?"

"Two."

Carson looked to be in pain. "If I'd flown us back from the mainland after all…"

"It would not have made a difference," Teyla hastened to insist. Despite having tortured herself with that same idea.

"Aye, maybe," Carson said, sounding just as unconvinced as she had been. "How is everyone else? Are those Rodney's dulcet tones I here?"

Teyla smiled, but it quickly fell away. Rodney would hate having to repeat the facts to more and more people, she imagined, and therefore it would be a kindness to share them with Carson now, in a low tone. "Dr Biro is stitching his arm. Kolya… used a knife to extract information. He is not badly hurt," she added, knowing how inadequate that reassurance would feel.

Carson's face darkened. He clenched his jaw, managing with a physical effort not to shout or make any other violent sound that would attract attention. "That _bastard_ ," he said, finally, straining to keep his voice quiet and level like Teyla's. 

"Major Sheppard shot him in the chest," Teyla reminded him. "He fell through the Stargate." He had been told this already, but during the chaos surrounding the raising of the shield, so it was no surprise that he had forgotten.

She couldn't allow herself the belief that he was dead, however. He seemed too much like the Wraith in that way; sustained by a core of venom that would drive him though things which should kill him.

"I wish I could take a look at Rodney myself," Carson said. By which Teyla understood that he was feeling too ill and tired to even push himself up onto his elbows, or he would be doing it. "But Dora's a good doctor."

At the other end of the room, Rodney was saying, "Ow!" loudly, at frequent intervals.

"You can't even feel what I'm doing!" Dr Biro protested.

"I can _see_ it!"

"Might I suggest you stop looking, then?"

Carson caught Teyla's eye and grinned. He closed his eyes for a moment. There were shadows under them, and the effort he was making to rally for her benefit was obvious. "Did you tell me how _you_ are?"

"I am fine," she assured him. "Tired, that is all."

"Make sure you get some rest," he said. He looked at her again. "I don't remember… did I thank you properly for saving my life?"

Again, a reminder of her wounded pride which had nearly been fatal. "That is entirely unnecessary."

"It feels pretty necessary to me, I promise you."

She could have shared with him the feelings she had shared with Rodney, but she knew that Carson would then attempt to shoulder the responsibility of them, to try and make her feel better when he needed to conserve his energy for looking after himself. Knowing that, it would be selfish to try and foist her guilt onto him when he was vulnerable. "Thank you, then."

He smiled gratefully at her. "It's good of you to keep me company," he said. His eyes were once again struggling to close.

She touched his hand lightly, in the way that the Earth people favoured. "Go to sleep, Carson."

"You too," he murmured. He was apparently asleep again within moments.

Teyla made her way slowly back across the dimly-lit infirmary. She felt unreal again, and as though she was uncertainly tethered to the floor. She might drift away at any moment. 

Dora was just finishing wrapping Rodney's arm, her handiwork far neater than his earlier clumsy attempt. "You'll need to come back tomorrow for the dressing to be changed," she ordered.

Rodney made a face of unspecified-annoyance, presumably at the inconvenience he'd decided this would cause. "Fine," he said.

"You're also mildly hypothermic. If you don't promise to get yourself to bed right now, I'm going to keep you here for observation."

"Carson has a much better bedside manner than you," Rodney grumbled.

"I'm better at autopsies, though," she countered cheerfully.

Rodney gave her a look of muted horror. Teyla decided it was time to intervene, as amusing as the alternative might be. "Dr Biro, thank you for your assistance," she said.

"You take care of yourselves," Dora said. "I prescribe sleep all round, with your radios turned off."

"I intend to follow your instructions," Teyla promised her.

She and Rodney walked from the infirmary together, taking a route more meandering than intended as they both automatically tried to choose turnings which would result in the other's quarters being reached first, and it took them several corridors to realise that that was what they were doing.

It was Rodney's door they eventually ended up at first. "Will you be all right?" Teyla asked.

"Of course," Rodney said, but he made no immediate move to go inside. "You know, I still can't feel my arm. Do you think that's a bad sign?"

"I do not," Teyla said, firmly. "Dr Biro is very skilled."

"Yes, well." If Rodney had any specific complaints he was unlikely to be shy about voicing them. Teyla suppressed a smile.

"Do you think you _should_ be in the infirmary? We can go back —"

"No, no," Rodney said, hastily. "I, uh. I should go inside." He finally waved his hand over the door panel. 

Teyla wished he were an easier person to talk to. She wanted to say something that would express her sympathy and horror at what Kolya had done, some sort of reassurance, but he wasn't the sort of person for the words that she knew to be right. Or, although she was used to being proud of her skills of speech and leadership, perhaps it was her who was wrong here. She was used to one type of community and the people from Earth were used to quite another, it seemed. They all still had to learn where all the commonalities between them lay. So she simply said, "I hope you are able to sleep well."

"Yes, you too," Rodney said, fast and awkwardly, and retreated inside.

Teyla hoped very much that all of them were too tired to dream. She felt that she at least should be, as she made her way slowly to her quarters. 

It was especially frustrating, then, that sleep failed to come to her once she was in her bed, even while her eyes stung with fatigue. Her mind was still a whirl. The Genii, John, Rodney, the city in danger, the power of the storm. The agony of forced inaction, and the tense hunt through the enemy-infiltrated halls. Sora.

She lit a candle, and forced herself to lie back and close her eyes while she focused on the familiar scent. It made her ache inside. She had found friends and comrades in the people from Earth, but the loneliness of being apart from _her_ people, _her_ culture, still at times threatened to overwhelm her, as the waves had almost overwhelmed Atlantis. There was no one here to whom she could go to hold her when she wished to be held, or with whom she could share her night phantoms. 

Her radio buzzed, and her eyes snapped open — she was sitting up instantly and reaching for it. "This is Teyla."

"I _thought_ there'd be other people in this channel," John's voice said, laconically. "Still awake?"

Teyla tried to make her voice as stern as possible. She had expected to hear of some new emergency; her heart was hammering within his chest. "Actually, Major, I was trying to sleep."

"Oops," John said, possibly though by no means certainly shamefaced. "Sorry. You should have turned your radio off."

"Yes, thank you," Teyla retorted, knowing that he was quite right. She had definitely meant to, but had forgotten. "What were you radioing about?"

"I just wanted to see if anyone else was still awake," John admitted. "I woke up, and I'm pretty sure Elizabeth ordered it to be reported to her if I left my quarters."

Teyla didn't have to guess at why he would have wanted to leave his quarters. "Everyone is fine, John," she said. "Carson is resting in the infirmary, and Rodney has been seen to as well. Repairs are going smoothly." She would have heard otherwise — non-urgent ones had probably been paused for the night, in any case.

"The dead Genii?"

"I believe I managed to locate most if not all of them," she said. "In the morning we can cross-check with you. Those I found have been given to the sea."

"Good work," John said. "Hey, I know this hasn't been easy for you. I'm sorry things with Sora turned out the way they did."

"I am sorry too," Teyla said. She took the radio with her as she lay down under her sheets again, on her side so that she could watch the candle flame. She did not wish to talk out her feelings of guilt again. Doing so would be self-indulgent, since she had already received reassurance for them once. 

Another voice cut into the channel. "Do you mind? Some of us are trying to _sleep_ here." There was no trace of sleep in his tone.

Teyla left it to John to reply. "Why's your radio on, then, McKay?"

"Ready for the next catastrophe, obviously." A fast and glib answer, as one thought up in advance.

John chuckled. "Surely you only needed to leave the emergency channels open?"

"Major," Teyla chided him, smiling. She herself would never have considered trying to press Rodney to justify around his transparent wish to not be disconnected from his teammates; he would have been offended and annoyed if she had tried. But somehow he didn't seem to mind when John did that sort of thing. 

"It's no concern to _you_ how I use my radio," Rodney huffed, in a tone which was almost indistinguishable from _offended and annoyed_ but was in fact no such thing. 

"As your team leader, it certainly is." John's lazy drawl made Teyla smile again. "You're out of radio contact through the actual crisis, but _now_ you're not? Teyla and I were having a private conversation."

"How can you possibly be trying to use that against me?" Rodney almost spluttered in indignation. "I had no radio because I was being _tortured_!"

"Oh yeah?" John said. "How many stitches did you get?"

"Like I know!" Rodney responded indignantly. "It wasn't like I watched Dr Biro put them in."

"You watched your arm get sliced and you stepped in front of a gun for Elizabeth but you won't watch Biro stitch you up or even ask her basic questions," John said. "You're a strange man, McKay. Guess we can't all be badass like me and Teyla, though."

Rodney muttered something outraged under his breath. "I saved the city, you know."

"Well obviously I know that," John retorted. "Are you going to acknowledge that other people did too?"

"Of course!" Rodney snapped. "You, me, Elizabeth, Teyla, we all got a turn."

"So long as you remember that," John said, sounding satisfied.

"The rest of us are very grateful to you both," Teyla said. She was pleased they had reached this accord, but felt it was time for the argument to stop. 

"Teamwork," John said, firmly. "Don't sell yourself short."

"She's worried about falling behind in the 'saving everyone' stakes," Rodney said, rather too glibly. Teyla shifted uncomfortably, glad that the others couldn't see her.

"That's ridiculous," John said. "C'mon, Teyla. You can't be rating yourself below McKay. It'll only encourage him."

"Hey!"

She sighed. "I would not have spoken to you of such a feeling."

"Of course you wouldn't," John said. "Nice work, McKay."

"Oh, shut up," Rodney mumbled, which was definitely his way of expressing guilt. 

"Teyla, you saved Beckett," John said, sounding quite serious again. "And you saved Sora. Isn't that important?"

Teyla forced herself to properly consider before speaking. She was not angry with Sora, but she still resented her for sweeping their acquaintance aside, for assuming the worst of her, for baiting her into wasting time to fight her. But… she couldn't deny that she was deeply glad Sora was not dead. Even more glad that there was maybe no longer that animosity between them. The friendship with the Genii was just one more thing from her old life which she had lost, and she was indeed deeply thankful that at least a fragment of it might remain to her. "You are right," she admitted.

"And besides," John added, "If you hadn't persuaded Sora to help you get Beckett to the control room in time, the city probably _would_ have been destroyed."

"What are you talking about?" Rodney demanded.

"Like hell you were going to zap Carson and Teyla in the hallways," John said. "You'd have tried to find another way, and it wouldn't have worked, and we'd _all_ be dead now. So Teyla can rest assured she saved Atlantis too."

"I _was_ about to do it," argued Rodney. His voice was bitter now, and pained. "God, Sheppard, you were _there_."

"I was," John agreed. "Disagree all you want, but I was there, and I know you. You wouldn't have."

Rodney made a quiet little huffing noise. Teyla felt tears pricking her eyelids and wondered whether he did too. 

And John's words were… something to contemplate. Teyla's candle flame flickered, wavering in the gentle air currants she stirred. 

She closed her eyes. At the edge of her hearing the ocean sighed and whispered. A feeling of peace was gradually stealing over her. "Thank you," she said.

A loud yawn came over the radio.

"Are we keeping you awake, Major?" Rodney asked in a tone of friendly sarcasm.

"You're one to talk," John said, and yawned again.

"Maybe we should call it a night," Teyla suggested. She could feel herself sinking fast into the dark behind her eyes, and rolled over to wrap her blanket more firmly around herself.

"Good idea," Rodney said, now yawning himself. "If I can avoid being woken up by the radio again."

"Well, McKay, you're welcome to turn it off," John said. His voice was already thick with encroaching sleep. 

"Mmm."

Teyla smiled. Her radio would automatically stop transmitting after a few minutes of silence from her, but she had no intention of closing the channel. She was absolutely certain that neither of the others would either. "Goodnight," she whispered.

"Goodnight."

"G'night."

The sea was a faint, constant murmur. Also ever-present was the gentle humming of the city's systems, nearly below hearing. She found it hard to sleep these days when she was away from Atlantis, without these familiar noises. 

The city was her home now. Atlantis was home to all who lived within her. She might wish at times for the home she had left, but Atlantis held her teammates, and her friends, and everyone else in the city beyond. People she would risk her life to save. And they would do the same for her.

At last she slept. There was work to be done in the morning.


End file.
